


Sinkin' Down

by AvaMclean



Series: Team: Hellfire [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaMclean/pseuds/AvaMclean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crossroads is where things happen because they have too—there is nothing there but absolutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinkin' Down

**Title** : Sinkin’ Down  
 **Rating** : FR13  
 **Disclaimer** : Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.   
**Challenge** : #3 use the line “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one that touched it.”  
 **Team** :Hellfire

 

**Synopsis** : The crossroads is where things happen because they have too—there is nothing there but absolutes. 

 

_Sinkin’ Down_

 

Her anger, her disdain but utmost her despair shadowed the library, held it in a state of hopelessness and Giles reached forward, dragged another book from the pile in front of him as he filled the ledger with neat, block letters. His wrist dipped, elbow knocking the bag beside him to the linoleum tiled floor. It hit with a thick sound and he winced, lips thinning as he turned to make sure the seal had held. 

The red plastic shifted, settling over the contents and outlining the slim form that was slowly filling his office with the stench of decay. He ignored the twinge of distaste and turned back to his research, thankful in the fact that the local animal shelter had recently euthanized several of its older occupants. One being a black cat barely recognizable after sitting in their hazardous waste dumpster for over a week—a small favor since that meant he didn’t have to go in search of one. 

His brows lowered, the corners of his mouth pulling them down and his pen stilled in its frantic movement. Giles leaned forward, the back of the chair groaning with the movement, worn springs protesting and he wondered tiredly if Principal Snyder would ever find time to approve of his request for another. Shaking his head free of mundane thoughts he pulled the _Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis_ * closer and lifted his glasses to sit on top his forehead. He traced the symbol on faded parchment before putting it to the side and making a notation. He looked back toward the open codex, noting the specifics of the symbol before hastily sketching it out. 

His hand lifted to resettle his glasses and Giles rose, glanced around the office, his gaze lingering on the door-less entry into the library lobby. It settled there, looking past the checkout desk, hazel eyes narrowing on the cross necklace laying on the edge of the table where he head placed it after Buffy’s outburst. Her vampire had stared at it silently and then the doors she had shoved her way through before slinking back into the shadows. Leaving behind the pieces of a shattered relationship to be reassembled by someone else.

The flash of irritation was quickly doused by the memory of Angel’s haunted gaze as he fled the humanity around him. Fleeing from emotions he had more than likely thought long dead, unattainable. Giles sighed, shoving the romanticized thoughts from his mind as he moved through the entryway and into the library. The soles of his oxfords nearly silent as his long stride ate the distance between his office and the cage set along the far wall. 

His fingers wrapped around the plastic coated wire mesh and pulled the door outward, stepping from its path and inside to the metal cabinet. The hinges grunted in protest as he opened the top portion and turned his attention on the set of knives lining the inside of the doors. The Kaper Skeleton caught his eye and he lifted it, checked the edge. Swallowed back the rolling in his stomach as he thought of the knife’s use and slid it into its sheath, to be placed in his bag. 

He turned, opened the other side of the cabinet and reached into the corner, carefully freeing the moment in time captured by Willow a few weeks before. Stared at the image of he and his Slayer. She was hunched over her history paper, brows furrowed and her hand stilled in the motion of tapping her pencil. He was leaning over her, his arm holding his balance as he showed her the passage of text that would help her tie the ending paragraph to the beginning and Willow had called out to them. Giggled the word, “cheese,” and snapped the image as they looked up. She had handed him the photograph the next week her smile shy, yet impish. 

He cherished the rare moments of normalcy he shared with his charge. Giles’ mouth lifted as he cupped the peaceful reflection and then thinned as he gripped the edge and effortlessly tore it across the center. Cutting the image in half, Buffy trapped on the bottom and he, himself on the top. His stared at her image, fingers tracing the beginnings of her smile before he turned back to the cabinet and slid it onto the top shelf. His own half was folded and placed in the small pocket of his vest, directly above his heart and he stepped back, grabbed the Kaper and closed the cabinet with a resolute bang.

+

The sent of ocean had seeped in with a low fog that was crawling its way out free the trees and up toward the roads. A shovel slid into the dirt, scrapped against rock as a dusty oxford heel pushed it further into the earth before the metal lip lifted upward and began a tiny hole. Three more shovelfuls and Giles knelt in the dirt, reached for the metal box left to the side of his work and lifted the lid, checked the contents. 

The freshly cleaned bones gleamed beneath the low lying moon and Giles reached into his vest pocket, absently noticed the rapid beat of his heart and mentally shook himself before placing his torn half of the photo in the box beside the container of grave dirt and on top of his hasty sketches. He snapped the lid closed, placed it in the box, in the hole and rose, grabbing the shovel on his way up. He turned, casting his narrowed gaze around him, scanning the dark for possible threats, possible interruptions. No sign stood at either of the four corners helping to outline the crossroads. It laid nameless and barren, no sign of life or history to help ease his troubled mind, give him something tangible to focus on. 

His gaze dropped, stared down at the conjuring, his shoulders tight and breath coming out in shallow pants before Giles pulled himself straight and dropped the first shovelful on the box. It hit the metal, dirt scrapping over it, around it and a rock pinged the lid. He inhaled and dropped another pile and another until the hole was filled and he flipped the shovel to pat down the dirt. Dust rose up as the night stilled, silent and waiting around him.

“Hello, Rupert.”

He stiffened, hands clenching around the wooden handle as the skin of his arms prickled and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. His eyes closed, inhaled slowly and he calmed his mind, his heart and when his eyes opened the hazel had darkened and he turned around.

“Hello.” 

His voice was quiet matching the soft tone of the demon as she cocked her head and arched a brow. He felt the barest brush along the outside of his mind before she spoke, “You _really_ think that shovels gonna do you any good against me?” 

Her eyes flared, a flash of red heat and Giles swallowed before allowing the makeshift weapon to fall to the dirt road. The demon spun, blonde hair fanning outward as she took in the setting and turned back to him amused. “A little out of the way don’t’cha think? Afraid your little Slayer will see you making deals with the devil?”

“You’re not the devil.”

Her lips lifted, spread and she stepped forward. “No, but I am curious. What can I do—” A bird called out from the woods and she turned toward it, annoyance stamped across a cupie bow mouth. 

Giles’ arched a brow at the show and cleared his throat. Her annoyance shifted from the invisible bird to him and he reisted the urge to step back. Those painted lips tilted upward with his unease and she moved closer, her voice dropped to a honey sweetness. “What can I do for you, Watcher?”

“Will my Slayer die?”

She paused in her casual advancement and crossed her arms. The movement pushed her breasts upward, made them strain against the low-cut top barely covering them. Giles ignored the attempt at distraction and she rolled her eyes. “I make deals, I don’t tell fortunes.” 

She was suddenly in front of him, head tilted back as if waiting for him to embrace her. Slim form dwarfed by his and he wondered if she had chosen a petite blonde to possess on purpose, to distract him. “Tell me you didn’t summon me to read your palm. I’d hate to have to eviscerate you so soon.”

“I-I,” he stuttered and hated himself for it. With a deep breath he paused, choose to ignore the threat and the curl of fear snaking its way up his throat. “I need to know. So that I—“

“Yes.”

He stepped back from her, the interruption and bird called out once more. Filling the crossroads with a sign of life and he was grateful for the moment of distract as he gathered his thoughts. 

The demon turned back toward the woods, her eyes narrowed and red. A thick growl filled the fog, rolled through it, in it and Giles turned toward the sound as it rose in pitch. The low lying cloud spread and stretched. He felt the brush of heat and coarse hair, caught the scent of smoke and sulfur as the growl barreled past him and into the woods. The bird’s cry faltered and then screamed, a rustling of leaves followed by a meaty tearing. 

Giles turned back to stare at the demon, she caught his perusal out of the corner of her eye and turned back toward him. “ _Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one that touched it._ ”

“Touched it?”

She shrugged, “Fine, be fickle.” Her eyes rolled, “I’m not the one that killed it.”

“You control the hounds.”

“I also deal in semantics.” Her hips shifted and she followed his retreat, lifted her hands to settle on the lapels of his vest. Straightened them and then his collar before smiling up at him, “Now where were we?”

“My Slayer is to die tomorrow,” He paused glanced at the moon and corrected, “Tonight. My Slayer is to die tonight.”

He felt the same painless brush along his mind. “And you want me to stop it.”

“Yes.”

“De—“

Giles reached up, fingers wrapping tightly around her wrists and yanked them downward. “For ten years.”

She jerked back, “What?”

“I want my Slayer, Buffy Summers to live for ten years.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Then we’re done here.” Giles stepped back, offered her a polite smile. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”

Her eyes widened, the red fading to brown and she called out, “Wait,” he inclined his head and her lips quirk with his duplicity. A brow arched in admiration, “Say I do this. Say I can do this. I’ll need more than just one little soul for the effort this’ll take.”

His tone was cold, uncompromising. “The lengths I’ve gone to tonight attest to the what I am willing to do for my charge.” She nodded at his assessment. “Tell me what you want.”

“No.” There was a flicker of movement and she was again just before him. She rose onto her toes and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. He meet her gaze from inches away, watched the play of hellfire beneath the brown. “No. I’ll collect as I go.”

His lips pulled down in a frown, “That’s not what—”

“Deal.” The word was spoken and the hand at the back of his neck yanked him downward and she slanted her mouth against his. He felt the pressure increase, nearly painful as the inside of his lips ground against his teeth and he had the choice to open his mouth or allow the pressure to eventually break his jaw. 

He opened and the taste of smoke and sulfur swept in with her tongue. Coated his mouth, conquered his senses and she expertly twisted her tongue against his. Coaxing, sweet and with enough friction to make him want to reciprocate but he held still and firm until she pulled away, absently drew a thumb across his lower lip. 

“Be seeing you, Watcher.”

Her face went slack, head falling back and a pain filled shriek was thrown at the night sky as a billow of smoke arched out from her open mouth. It rose in a steady stream and for a moments time it blocked the moon before vanishing. Giles reached out, caught the woman’s arms as the she began to fall and watched her turn frightened eyes to him. 

“Who are you?” She glanced around the crossroads and visibly began to shake. “Where am I?”

His nostrils flared, breath coming out on as a harsh sigh before he slowly released her and stepped back. “Let’s get you home.”

 

_The End._

 

_*Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis aka The Lesser Key of Solomon_


End file.
